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My mother moved back in with me two days ago. On the way back from the airport, 20 seconds on the interstate and I was already regretting it. 2 days and she "can't remember" that i had told her she could not take over the living room, she could not put her desk out there, her bookshelves, and her sewing machine. I told her my older brother worked night shift and sleeps there so she would need to change her sleep schedule or stay to my room (two bedroom apt with 4 people) she was not to clean or cook while my brother sleeps, that we were planning on finding a new place so not to purchase furniture...

She doesn't remember. I finished putting together a desk and two bookshelves and she told me that two of them stayed in the living room. I threw my hammer back into my toolbox and sighed. I was done trying to reason with her. I moved her furniture while she harrassed me over "my additude" I told her to drop it, she wouldn't listen so I was done talking. I moved all her shit. I walked away from her. I WALKED AWAY!!!

She chased me down to fight. She wanted my hammer since the back to the bookshelf came off. I went to fix it and she poked and prodded until I snapped. I told her she doesn't listen, everything is about her, there was no respect for anyone else. She yelled, I yelled, she yelled, and I yelled. Then Jason yelled. He stormed out and came at me with a raised fist. I had enough and I took the hammer to his ribs. I knew it was unfair after the first hit so I dropped it. We exchanged blows, he threw me back and my mother grabbed him. Bad Idea!

a little back story here. Jason and I fight. Full on fists. Broken ribs, black eyes, bruises, and bloody noses. longest fight lasted 5 mins. We fight dirty and make up right after. But don't get in the middle. Jason shoved her into a wall. It had gone too far so I dragged him back into my fight. After a few more hits I walked away.

Jason told my mother exactly why we were mad. Explained the things she did that pissed us off. The way she picks and picks. And then it was over. I broke down, the damn depression I couldn't help crying. There was a time where Jason and I would beat the daylights out of each other, say "Im sorry" and laugh. This time I cried. It didnt hurt, not physically.

And now I stare at the disability determination letter. It asks me to see another doctor. I want to get better, I really do... but I am tired... oh so tired of trying.

My mother was more worried over her damn furniture than me or Jason. She threatened to leave because she was so "unwanted". And now she is laying in the living room on the floor, fake sobbing, trying to get me to feel bad. Yes I feel bad, but not about the fight, not about her. Im tired of her abuse. That's what it is... abuse.

I have little things I have to do. People cannot stand behind me, I gag and try hard not to run away when people are too close, and I cannot be on a flight of stairs when someone else is on them. She groans and tells me to get over it every time. I cant help it... just like I cant help running like a scared child when there is a bee or wasp. (im highly allergic)

I cant help it. It hurts too much when I try to ignore it and hold fast. I just cant help it.

My cat finally came out of hiding 4 hours after all this to come comfort me. If i get this disability I am walking away from all this. Im renting a truck and finding a one bedroom somewhere. I can't live with these people anymore. I will miss Jason, he and I always got along (even when we fight). We thought we could escape. Maybe we still can.

I guess its a good thing I blogged twice day before yesterday since I ended up skipping a day. I had to call and talk to my insurance and then a DR appointment. It was, to say the least, Exhausting. Even more exhausting was my insurance couldn't give me a straight answer on the question I called them about. Then it was off to the DR where I had to explain to them that I was in the process of fixing it so they could bill and hope to hell they wouldn't charge me the full visit and the balance for a full visit from my last trip.

I sat in that waiting room for 50 mins. I had arrived 10 mins early (well 15 but I sat in my car) and sat there in a mostly empty waiting room watching people leave and texting my mother trying to stay calm. Finally I was taken back by a nurse I had never met before. She was a lot nicer than the other lady that takes me back to the waiting room, hell she even introduced herself, not that I caught the name. She took my blood pressure with this wrist thing. When she took it off she almost freaked out, practically threw it back on my wrist and told me we were going to double check. Aparently my blood pressure was dangerously high. The second time was a little above normal but not as bad as the first test. She called it "white coat syndrome" and I laughed a bitter laugh but it still made me feel better about the whole trip.

The doctor came in, did his usual act, "how are you feeling" "do you think the meds are working" blah blah blah. I dont mean to go hard on DRs I have just never liked them. I feel it takes them too long to fix problems. I had a rash when I was littly on my stomach that itched so bad I would scratch until I bled. They never did figure out what was wrong, eventually it just went away. Then there was the cough. Even when I was asleep I would cough, non stop coughing. I still cough a lot but its not as bad. My dad would wake me up in the middle of the night and make me take some cough syrup so HE could sleep. Again, they never figured out what was wrong. Then there was the passing out. 20 Dr visits, 4 specialists, and it took a neurologist less than 10 mins to diagnos (there was no name for it) and hand me a perscription of 2 weeks worth of meds and sent me on my way. Two weeks later my headaches were gone and I stopped falling over.

So I don't like drs. This dr though, he means well. He treats me like a human and makes sure how he wishes to treat me is alright with me. He explains my meds and possible side effects and is willing to admit defeat when something isn't working. Hell he even makes sure that he finds me cheap specialists since a lot of places wont take my insurance. He is trying to get me into therapy but I just can't afford it, at least until we get a cheaper place.

So he sent me away today with a refill on the meds I have been taking and for something else to help. I feel like a pharmacy. Hell with the leftover pills from other visits I may be able to open my own. I have pain killers, blood pressure meds, Mood stabalizors, two pills I can't remember why they were perscribed, Braces for wrist, finger, knee, and foot, and a sling. And thats what I can think of off the top of my head.

I would think I was a hypochondriac except I want to get better. I have never been healthy. Catch the cold and flu every winter, Allergic to meds and other things, and just plain clutsy. (though I have never had stitches) Hell I caught meningitis from a damn meningitis vaccine.

I don't know. You ever get those moments where all you can think of to say is "I don't know..." and you want to say something else. You are frustrated by something specific but you cannot put it into words. That is how I feel. Almost all the time. I will mutter to myself depending on the situation, "I don't know..." when I am frustrated, "I just wanna go home..." when I am tired and stuck somewhere, and "I hate people/why do I do this..." when I go to the store or dr.

Also there are the noises. I get woken up by what I think is a knock on the door... no one else hears it and there is no one there. I hear my phone buzz but it is dark right in front of me. I heard the stupid sound siri makes when you accidently open the program, but my phone was across the room, silent. I dont know if what I'm hearing is from my brother's phone in the other room, or someone knocking on a neighbor's door. Or hell if the cat just bumped something... well there goes my phone again... Well at least this time it was real... stupid game telling me to collect my daily reward.

Am I going insane? Or is the stress just messing with my head? I just don't know...

I realize the things I don't say are the things that hurt the most. The things I don't say are the things that keep me up at night. The things I don't say are the things I should get off my chest but can't. I talk about some of the things that led to me losing it but that is skirting around the truth. I talk here about a few things I want to do, but not how much it hurts to hope. I do a few things to try to make a little money, but I just want to tear them up and give up.

It hurts to live. I tell myself it will get better but I don't really belive it. I maintain correspondance with a friend even though I belive that she would rather I stop bothering her. I look towards the future and want so bad for it to go away.

The things I don't talk about, I just can't. I can't find the words. I can't find a way to write it down, to speak, to show people. I see these websites that post how other people feel about their depression, I used to be able to read them and relate. Now I just flip past. I used to read these sites that tell you how to get over it, and now they disgust me and I pass by them. I have friends tell me that it will all be ok. I smile politely and change the subject. I see something on facebook, some scripture, some "share if..." picture, and I hide it from my feed.

I don't want people to tell me how to feel, to tell me how they feel. I want them to invite me to breakfast, to invite me to go shopping, to invite me to just hang out and talk somewhere quiet. I don't want their pity, their concern, their compassion. I just want them to treat me how they used to, even if I tell them I'm not in the mood or I would rather stay home. I just want to pretend like my life never fell apart. I want to pretend I am just between jobs and not too scared to work.

Maybe if I pretend I can get through this and eventually I will be alright. Maybe if I pretend... Maybe I will be happy again.

Boy that is getting tedious. Now this just feels like a chore. No one really cares what I have to say so Im not sure I should bother anymore.

Anyway self pity out of the way, I was looking at office spaces today to see how much I would have to be able to make per month to afford opening my own shop. It looks like around $1,000/month will see to all the bills, not including startup costs. If I can make that on Etsy or through friends I'll have to consider it. Finding a normal job where I am just a peon scares the crap out of me. I think I would end up walking out the first time a coworker or customer even looked at me wrong. But somehow the thought of being my own boss, being able to tell that bitchy customer they are not welcome in my store. That seems like something I could do. Maybe I'm being optomistic (nice change of pace) but the places I'm looking at are multi-unit office buildings. Most of the ones I have looked at contain 3-5 offices and the ones that are a single space office share confrence rooms and bathrooms with the other office.

I guess that is not that bad. We could corner off an area for a dressing room and put a counter up to keep people from going through other people's things. I really wish I could do this but it's a ways off. My only problem is dealing with the finances, I am half tempted to find one of my old coworkers with a business degree and ask them to come work for me... would have to make a lot more to be able to pay them.

WOOPS got distracted by a new craft idea, so I guess I'm done here... Really wish I could figure out how to put pictures on this site... Oh well I'm too lazy.

I went to join the chat rooms on this site yesterday. I read all the rules, put in my nickname, and then... I just couldn't do it... I could not click the join button. It's that bad that I can't even socialize over the internet anonymously. The only people I talk to is my mother and a friend that lives a state away. Now my mother is going to be moving in with us here in a few days which means I will have no privacy... I guess I should just be greatful to have someone to talk to.

It hurts you know... Physical pain when I have to deal with people I don't know. I had to call to get a form from my old insurance agent, I was in the bathroom sick afterwards. I have to go to the store, I end up needing pain killers, a wrist brace for the carpal tunnel, and use a tens unit. Even talking to people over the internet requires a nap afterwards.

I don't understand... I've never been real social but I was a supervisor over 50 of my own people with almost 200 people that I called my own. Every one of them I would stop to help, every one of them knew I would take their concerns seriously and find a solution, Every one of them knew I cared. Hell most of them knew my name. Now, now I just dont exist. No one knows who I am anymore. (not even I know) And no one knows how much I gave to help everyone else, How much I would still give to those people I used to work with.

Eventually I would like to work again, but I dont think I could stand working under another Craptastic manager. I want to open my own Custom clothing/craft and repair shop. I make crafts now to distract myself from self pity and the stress of trying to get better. A few of my friends have asked for stuffed animals for themselved/children. My grandmother in california said she would buy some of my angel candycane decoration too.

But even that hinges on me getting better. Which at this point I just dont see happening.